


Bendito Sea

by Lotus_Dumplings



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, History, Letters, M/M, Politics, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotus_Dumplings/pseuds/Lotus_Dumplings
Summary: Am I yourRuiseñor? Singing and crying in the forest? Would you be myFuentecilla? Would you run back to me?





	Bendito Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Aka my Tumblr requests gets too big. Title means Blessed Be.

August 24th, 1914

They have Belgium. You probably already know this, better than me, but still. I haven't received any letters. I know, it is stupid to complain and if you were here, you'd probably chastise me, but I can't help myself! I'm already having trouble not showing my worry in public, let me be open of it here.

How is Emma? Do you still have her picture in your breast pocket? I wish now I had enough money for a camera. Maybe I could show you I'm well, and hope that you'd do the same. 

I swear I haven't touched your things! I know how particular you get about it all the time, but I promise I haven't! Your rainy day funds are tucked away as per usual. I can only imagine your anger if you found I touched it... How odd you can be about it. 

Hopefully you'll be back soon, though. I shouldn't have to imagine you angry when you always seem to be angry about something. Please be back soon, this entire ordeal makes me fearful.

Many prayers,  
Yours.

December 21st, 1914

Winter starts today, and the first day of Christmas starts up soon, as well. Still no word from my brother as to his whereabouts, and I'm getting nothing from my cousins either. I worry about them same as I worry about you. 

Christmas is much more celebrated in Belgium, yes? I do hope your family gets their fair share of miracles! If anyone deserves it, it's them. Perhaps in the spirit of things, I shall buy some pastries! I don't have much a penny to indulge with, but it'll be fine. Everything will work out, eventually. 

Will you be home for Three Kings Day? I can't imagine you not being here. While I'm sure our closeness has stricken a few as odd, it can't deter me when you're around. I hope to be able to toast with you to a new year. Until then, with a good meal and a jolly song, I will endure. 

Many prayers,  
Yours. 

February 12th, 1915

The U-Boats have gotten everyone scared. We have reports of them destroying trade ships that cross the the Chanel. I'm unsure what this means, but dear Lord, please let it be okay. 

It feels wrong, life still going on while these things happen in the background. It seems not even neutrality ensures safety. I can't afford to stop working, though. Prices have not been improving, especially with this odd migration of people.

I tried to play again today! It has been a long while since I've felt strings between my fingers, and I do miss it. I wonder, sometimes, if cousin still plays tambourine. Does Emma still dance? I wonder if she'd ever have the heart to dance to my old guitar. Perhaps not. Both of us are wearing thin with age. 

Many prayers,  
Yours. 

July 2nd, 1915

I wonder sometimes if Germany will invade Spain. It is unlikely, but my mind can wander. It was unlikely that Austria would bombard Serbia only ten years ago. With the angry people and the "war of all wars" going off before our eyes, it seems like anything can happen these days.

Has it really been almost a year since you left? It seems the year has gone by far too slow. I miss you. 

People are not happy here. The railways are getting packed and people are coming in. At first, I thought it was refugees, but as it turns out, they're also Spanish citizens. I don't know why so many are moving into the cities so quickly. Perhaps it is money. Everyone just wants a small bit of bread, these days. 

I've been trying to stay optimistic. Things will be alright, for both of us! Though sometimes even I have trouble believing that.

Many prayers,  
Yours.

January 4th, 1916

I fear it shall be another epiphany alone. Work is rough. I don't think I can get a day off soon, though I suppose I won't be needing it. 

I had no time to prepare a _cuña_. I was too tired. I'm always so tired these days, I don't know where my years went! Hell, I'm turning 42 this year! I fear if I even tried to craft, my fingers would turn brittle, before crumbling before my eyes. It's silly, but my fears don't let up. 

I don't think I can make much of a dinner this year, either. There have been riots across the city. Food riots, they say. Even our own cupboards are bare, not having been full in almost a year. Everyone wants something, and it seems the King can't supply. You'd be displeased by our current state.

Relearning guitar has proven to be difficult, but I'm getting the hang of it! It hurts my fingers sometimes, but it gives me something to think about. I learned the song my _mamá_ used to sing to me when I was little. _A la nanita_. 

It makes me think. About a lot of things. Sometimes about good things, sometimes about the stuff I'd rather forget. And this may seem laughable, but sometimes I think about you. 

Many prayers,  
Yours. 

June 25th, 1916

I'm trying to keep steady. I don't know how long I can do that, but I'm trying. I wonder if you're trying as well.

Things are splitting. Francophiles vs Germanophiles, they say. Some people have risked their lives to start fighting in France. The fathers are saying we need to band with Germany. Everyone wants change. I just want to get by. 

When I pack the train cars, I see things are still going out. We don't get much to unpack. My paycheck stays where it is. Life goes on. 

It's starting to get to me, laying in bed without you. Sometimes I have to sing myself to sleep. I sing to you, too. Do you hear the sound of my voice sometimes? _Manojito de rosas y de alelies. ¿Qué es lo que estás soñando que te sonríes?_

Are you trying to make it back home? Do you think about me as much as I think about you? Do you miss me? I don't know if these reach you anymore. I've sent so many. Please, it's been two years! Please come back to me... 

January 6th, 1917

I pray for your forgiveness. I had to use your funds in the end. I really hope it's alright.

Sometimes I wonder if I could just take a train and leave here. Go somewhere far away. Away from everything. Though that isn't very realistic, is it? But still, the thought of living far off in some rural utopia, sitting with you as you smoke your pipe, strumming _A la nanita_... do you hear it?

_Pajaritos y fuentes, auras y brisas_  
_respetad ese sueño y esas sonrisas_  
_callad mientras la cuna se balancea_  
_que el niño esta soñando, bendito sea._

Happy Three Kings Day. 

September 16th, 1917 

So much has happened. It seems like the world is shaking. War in Europe only gets worse and worse. The divide between the people of Spain strengthens. I fear something horrible in on the horizon. Life goes on.

It's hard going on endlessly. A train car in, a train car out. Nothing changes but the news. Always news. Is there ever music on the radio these days? 

I know I said I was relearning guitar, but it's painful. My fingers ache and I'm always tired. So tired. I only have the heart to play one thing. Can you hear it?

_Cuales son tus sueños, niño alma mía mas,  
¿Qué es lo que murmuras?_

I'm trying here, Hendrik. Please know I'm trying. 

January 1st, 1918

It is a new year. I want to try and let go. I want to so badly. I've tried making a cuña, I've tried making comfort foods, I've tried playing any other song but _that_ one and nothing works. I can't leave you, not like this! 

_Fuentecilla que corres clara y sonora  
Ruiseñor que en la selva cantando lloras_

Am I your _Ruiseñor_? Singing and crying in the forest? Would you be my _Fuentecilla_? Would you run back to me? 

I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can live like this. When will it end? The war, the conflicts, our separation, life itself? When can I finally rest my tired eyes, Hendrik? 

I've been afraid to cut the letters off. I don't know why. Maybe it means cutting you off. Admitting you won't come back. But I need to move on. And that's the first step. I'm sorry, _Corazón_.

Many prayers.  
Antonio.

Hendrik is tired. Tired of working day in and day out. Tired of shitty German soldiers. Tired in general. 

He can't help but think of running his hands through chocolate curls. Of caressing tan, olive skin. He prays for it now, as if it's some damn Christmas wish. But the war's finally over. He can finally go home. 

Emma cries when she sees him. He almost does, as well. He can't stay long, though. It's been four years too long already. She gives him the letters, a box full of them, set carefully and labeled meticulously. He reads them on the train ride, and actually does cry this time. 

He thinks about his brother, and how he had fallen ill while at work. He thinks about his sister, and how she had gaven up so much. He thinks about how lucky he is to be alive and going _home_. 

There's nothing more than that he wants right now. 

The roads are the same, but so alien at the same time. There's the feeling he felt in Germany and in Belgium: lifted tension. The Great War, the war to end all wars, is finally over. He still has no clue why it was fought, or why it needed to involve him, but he ignores that. He takes another drag of his pipe. 

He hears him before he sees him. A groan and a lazy "un momento". His heart nearly wells with something he can't quite place. 

The door opens, and he can see him. His eyes are baggy and his hands are calloused, but it's still him. He wants to say so much in that moment. 

Antonio just stares at him. It's quiet. Disbelieving. He reaches out to touch him, before retreating. As if touching him will make him disappear. 

"... Hendrik?" 

He nods. Slowly, with shaky hands, Antonio reaches up to cup his face. Fingers run over the scar lightly and he frowns. Hendrik tries to turn away from the touch, but Antonio only pulls him closer. 

"I've waited so long for this. A stupid scar isn't going to ruin that." It isn't until they go inside that Hendrik begins to cry. He tries to hide it because he needs to be strong now. He's been through so much, he can't break now _goddammit_. 

Antonio pulls him close, and through his own sobs he can hear him sing. 

__

_A la nanita nana, nanita ella, nanita ella,  
mi niño tiene sueño, bendito sea,  
bendito sea._

**Author's Note:**

> Cuña- Crib, nativity scene 
> 
> Mamá- Mom
> 
> A la nanita- a Spanish lullaby, though it is also sung around Christmas with allusions to baby Jesus. Most of the Spanish in the story are verses from it.
> 
> Manojito de rosas y de alelies. ¿Qué es lo que estás soñando que te sonríes?- Little hand of roses and gillyflower.  
> What is it you are dreaming of that makes you smile? 
> 
> Pajaritos y fuentes, auras y brisas  
> respetad ese sueño y esas sonrisas  
> callad mientras la cuna se balancea  
> que el niño esta soñando, bendito sea.- Birds and fountains, mist and breeze,  
> respect that dream and those smiles  
> be quiet while the cradle swings,  
> because the child dreams, blessed be. 
> 
> Cuales son tus sueños, niño alma mía mas,  
> ¿Qué es lo que murmuras?- What are your dreams, child of my soul,  
> What is it you murmur? 
> 
> Fuentecilla que corres clara y sonora  
> Ruiseñor que en la selva cantando lloras- Little fountain, clear and melodic,   
> nightingale, singing and crying in the forest
> 
> Ruiseñor- Nightingale
> 
> Fuentecilla- Little Fountain
> 
> Corazón- Heart
> 
> Un momento- A moment
> 
> Mi niño tiene sueño, bendito sea,  
> bendito sea- My little boy is sleepy, blessed be, blessed be.


End file.
